Did I mention the cakes? Well now, although the pronunciation is a touch unappetising, "Apfelstrudel", apple strudel of course, takes on a completely different taste when you are the beneficiary of the sweet from the traditional baker. "Topfenstrudel", curd-cheese strudel, is like going to heaven carried by very accommodating lady angles. Don't ask me what strudel is, but it is probably the only German word that now rolls off my tongue. I've mentioned "Sachertorte" before. This is a simple Chocolate cake that is not as simple as it sounds. Eating it brings memories of a happy childhood, face smeared with chocolate from a hastily nicked piece of freshly baked cake. Funnily enough it must be someone else's childhood; mine was not that good.
I could spend weeks expounding the pleasures to be had in Vienna, but my rent is due and I have to work for a living. I may decide to write companion stories, Wachau Dreaming and Malta Dreaming, but I'm unsure if anyone reads this stuff so I'll wait from some reaction before I expand the stories. Anyway back to the subject.
You may very well be enthralled by the place, but Vienna was not all perfect.
The bar at the Belly Dancing Review did have neither soda nor ice for my Whisky. The girl looked at me funny and said " Sorrry missterr, soda?!" So I got water. When I asked for ice, she exchanged knowing looks with the barman and concluded I was not local.
Mornings always came too early and someone shortened the hours in my 7day holiday.
Would you believe the pub did not have my favorite Whisky! Not to mention I came third place in the "Nail in the tree trunk" competition. The bar was also way too high for me.
Franz's cats shed hair on my black shirt and I couldn't understand the instructions in the elevator of his apartment block. Herr Meier's convertible is a Peugeot; Andrea's mother's cakes kept me spending too much time in the kitchen; it rained on 2 days for a total of 30 minutes and the Austrian language has dots in it.
E-mail to Ray Agius: Ramel@bigpond.com
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